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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843719">All the Way Home, I'll Be Warm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/pseuds/waterofthemoon'>waterofthemoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Christmas, Cohabitation, Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:34:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/pseuds/waterofthemoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas after the apocalypse that didn't happen, and all Crowley and Aziraphale want is to be together. Luckily, for once, there's nothing standing in their way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Snowmens Winter Gift Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All the Way Home, I'll Be Warm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/heloluv/gifts">heloluv</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my gift for heloluv/theearthisalibra in the events server Good Snowmens exchange! The prompts I combined were "Crowley helps Aziraphale decorate the bookshop for Christmas" and "Christmas Day, Aziraphale is on his own and expecting no company. Then Crowley turns up and makes his Christmas amazing." I hope you enjoy this bit of coziness for the winter season! ❤️🎄</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Crowley!" Aziraphale looks up when the bell jingles over the bookshop door. The shop is closed, due to all the pre-Christmas trade and extra foot traffic in the surrounding shops, but that's never stopped Crowley. "I didn't expect to see you tonight."</p>
<p>"Why not?" Crowley closes the door behind him and leans in the doorway, frowning. "'S Christmas Eve. I don't have other plans, do you?"</p>
<p>Aziraphale bites his lip. "Well… I thought you'd be working."</p>
<p>Or, it was less that he thought Crowley might have an assignment—they're done with all that, after all—and more that Crowley simply enjoys causing mischief on major religious holidays. <em>Especially</em> on Christmas. Crowley quite liked the pagans back in the day, and he's never really gotten over the co-opting of their Yule traditions.</p>
<p>The point is, he thought Crowley might be out <em>carousing</em>, not turning up at the bookshop with a bottle in hand and a look in his eyes that says he'd really prefer it if Aziraphale didn't turn him away. Luckily, Aziraphale doesn't have the heart for it. He never has, and especially now, when they're all each other has.</p>
<p>"Nope," Crowley says. "I'm all yours. <em>Do</em> you have other plans?"</p>
<p>Aziraphale shakes his head, as much to answer Crowley as to shake away the inappropriate images he's just conjured up in Aziraphale's mind. Honestly, he swears Crowley does it on purpose.</p>
<p>"Not at all. I thought I'd stay hunkered down tonight—it's supposed to be a cold one." And judging by Crowley's shivering and the blustery air he's just let in, it seems the forecast was right about that.</p>
<p>"Sounds like a great plan, honestly." Crowley stands there a moment longer, looking a bit at loose ends, then pulls himself together and saunters through the shop. He then throws himself onto the sofa and hands Aziraphale the bottle, a very nice Cabernet Sauvignon. "You'll want to decant that," Crowley adds. "Had it just lying around my flat for ages."</p>
<p>Aziraphale fetches the decanter and does so, feeling Crowley's steady, quiet gaze on him through the whole tedious process. When he's finished and has the wine poured, he then has the dilemma of where to sit.</p>
<p>There's the armchair where he usually sits, still in each other's orbits but a safe distance away. And then there's the other side of the sofa, next to Crowley, which he's sure Crowley won't object to.</p>
<p>There are warm blankets covering the sofa. That, he tells himself, is what sways his decision. He hands off Crowley's glass and plops himself down, earning a startled stare over the top of Crowley's glasses.</p>
<p>"Hi," Crowley says. "You, uh." He chews on his thoughts for a moment before settling on, "Hi."</p>
<p>"I do believe we've covered the pleasantries," Aziraphale says. "Come, tell me what you've been up to this week."</p>
<p>Their closeness on the sofa, the warmth building in the space between them on the sofa, is awkward but welcome. Outside, the wind whips past the shop windows; Aziraphale spares a thought for those out at Christmas Eve services and hopes they will do their very best to keep each other safe.</p>
<p>As Crowley recounts his antics—apparently, there have been some pre-holiday shenanigans afoot, something about a truly ugly shop window display and the last tin of chocolate biscuits at Tesco, which he presents with a flourish—and they sip their wine, he leans into Aziraphale to tell him the naughtiest bits, and Aziraphale shifts his weight inward, until they end up in the very middle of the sofa, arms and thighs plastered against each other's.</p>
<p>It doesn't feel awkward anymore. Crowley is a long streak of warmth at his side, more solid than he looks; Aziraphale thinks about drawing a quilt over them but doesn't want to spare the energy, not yet.</p>
<p>"Hey, speaking of the big day." Crowley nudges him, startling Aziraphale out of his distracted thoughts. "Why haven't you got any decorations up, hmmm? You love that sort of thing."</p>
<p>"Oh—I don't know," Aziraphale hedges. He tears his eyes away from Crowley—the long legs stretched out in front of him, the edges of his profile softened with proximity and relaxation—and glances around the bookshop. A decade ago, he admits to himself, he would have hung fairy lights and holly branches to mark the occasion. But with so much going on, and with the whole Adam and Warlock situation, it frankly hasn't felt worth it.</p>
<p>It might be worth it again now, though. With Crowley here. With the rest of their lives stretching out in front of them.</p>
<p>Crowley leans even closer into his side, so close Aziraphale can feel the soft spikes of his hair and breathe in the scent of him, smoke and spice. "Could be fun. Something to do, anyway."</p>
<p>His tone is casual, but meant to draw Aziraphale in all the same. Aziraphale decides to take the bait. "You want to decorate the bookshop. <em>My</em> bookshop. For Christmas."</p>
<p>"For Yule," Crowley corrects. "And, weeellll." One of Crowley's hands meanders through the air as much as the single syllable of the word does. "I sort of thought—if you don't have any objections, of course—that it could sort of be—our bookshop?"</p>
<p>"Ours." Aziraphale hears the faint, pleased sound of his own voice, so similar to the one he had over eleven years ago, sitting across from Crowley. "You really want to?"</p>
<p>"Well, yeah." In the dim light of the sitting area, Aziraphale notices the faint blush pinking Crowley's cheeks. Crowley nudges him and manages to slip even farther into the dip of the sofa, so Aziraphale has to wrap an arm around him just to keep his from being squashed between them. He feels, very much, like he's holding something precious in the palm of his hand, something that could flourish or be snuffed out in this one moment. He chooses the former.</p>
<p>"I'd like to decorate with you," Aziraphale says. He strokes Crowley's arm, down to the sharp bone of his elbow. "And—I'd like to have you here. On a more—permanent basis."</p>
<p>Crowley knocks shoulders with him, then bumps his thin cheek against Aziraphale's rounder one, nuzzling there. "Better get to it, then. Father Christmas'll be turning up soon."</p>
<p>"Oh, hush. You know that part's only a story." Even so, Aziraphale presses his lips to Crowley's face, somewhere in the general area near his mouth, and reluctantly heaves himself up to fetch the boxes of decorations from upstairs.</p>
<p>It doesn't take them long, all told. Aziraphale puts a big band Christmas album on the gramophone for atmosphere and decides it's far too cold outside and too late in the season to bother with the outside of the shop or even put much effort into the front room, so they really just do his desk and the whole of the sitting area, haphazardly stringing tinsel and lights until it looks sufficiently festive. Crowley frowns at the plug end of the lights, then at the plug halfway across the room, and turns a hard stare on the lights until they blink on of their own accord.</p>
<p>Aziraphale hasn't got a tree and doesn't feel particularly inclined to either manage a live one or deal with the hassle, Crowley's snide comments included, of keeping around an artificial one. When he explains this to Crowley, he agrees but cocks his head in consideration.</p>
<p>"Be right back," he says, squeezing Aziraphale's hand. On the way out, he nonchalantly—a little too nonchalantly, Aziraphale thinks, as if he were working at it—snags Aziraphale's tartan scarf from the coat rack and wraps it around his own exposed neck. Aziraphale doesn't try at all to bite back his pleased smile.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later, Crowley returns triumphantly with some sort of ornamental tree in a plant pot.</p>
<p>"'S a ficus!" He waves the thing around by its trunk, nearly hitting the bookshelf containing half the travel books and precisely one-third of the horror section. "It won't shed, least not near as much as a pine. And it's winter now, so you don't even have to water it that much."</p>
<p>Aziraphale doesn't know what to say. To his great embarrassment, he feels tears spring to his eyes. Crowley immediately sets the tree down and rushes to his side.</p>
<p>"Oi, hey, none of that." Crowley wipes his thumbs under Aziraphale's eyes. "If you don't like it, I can take it back to my place. It's getting a bit uppity, though—that's why I thought of you."</p>
<p>Aziraphale turns his face into Crowley's hand and kisses his palm, then nips it in retaliation for the snide remark. "I knew it had to be one of yours. Don't even dream of taking it back. Just got a bit in my feelings, that's all." He sniffles. "Besides, you ought to have some of your things here, too, and a reason to come by now and then, if you're to be the &amp; Co. in the business—which you always have been, by the way, check the paperwork."</p>
<p>Crowley's eyes widen, and Aziraphale gets kissed, full on the mouth, as Crowley wraps him up in his arms. "I already have a reason to come by. I always have."</p>
<p>That's far too soppy even for Aziraphale. He melts into Crowley's arms anyway and rubs their noses together. "Goodness, you're cold."</p>
<p>"Better warm me up, then." Crowley says, and their lips meet again.</p>
<p>The ficus gets placed in the sunniest corner of the bookshop, with a promise from Crowley to bring by an extra lamp if it doesn't live up to standards, and Aziraphale lovingly adorns it with the last string of lights. Crowley looks on, quietly pleased. They retire back to the sofa then and climb halfway into one another's laps, arms and legs stacked on top of each other. Aziraphale doesn't remember why he was at all hesitant earlier.</p>
<p>He thinks about all the winter holidays they've spent together, solstice bonfires and Christmas tree lightings and menorah lightings for Hanukkah, and gazes at the little tree and the decorations they've just hung up. Outside, a light snow begins to fall. Aziraphale presses even closer and then, at last, summons his fluffiest comforter from upstairs to cocoon them in, being careful not to knock over the stack of books next to his desk.</p>
<p>"Shall we tell ghost stories?" he suggests. "Used to be a very popular tradition, this time of year. Fallen out of favor a bit now, though."</p>
<p>"Can't imagine why," Crowley says, his mouth drifting somewhere near Aziraphale's cheek. "I've got one, though. If you like."</p>
<p>As he begins weaving his tale, the wind howls outside and the snow begins to build and stick, but having Crowley so near and the glow of the lights inside the bookshop—theirs, now and for always—warms the whole of Aziraphale's heart. He wiggles around until he can rest his head comfortably on Crowley's chest and lets himself drowse there, just a little.</p>
<p>"That was wonderful," he says when Crowley's finished his haunted house story. "Very terrifying."</p>
<p>Crowley snorts. "That really happened, you know. Well. <em>Most</em> of it happened, I embellished a little with the ghosts part." They're quiet for a moment, then Crowley prods him with a finger. "Your turn."</p>
<p>Aziraphale considers his options before beginning. "Well, once there was an open door that wouldn't stay closed, no matter what the owner of the house did…."</p>
<p>They stay there, cuddling and drinking the rest of the wine, while the gramophone winds down and late evening shades into night and the wee hours. Christmas Day, dawning through the windows, finds them asleep on the old sofa, using each other as pillows. Aziraphale wakes first and wipes the drool from his mouth.</p>
<p>"Good morning, Crowley," he murmurs, gently squeezing Crowley's side to wake him. "Happy Yule."</p>
<p>"'S it morning?" Crowley's eyes blink open, and he cranes his head to look at Aziraphale. "Yeah. Happy Yule to you, too."</p>
<p>He extricates himself from the pile of Aziraphale and blankets in one graceful motion, though he stumbles a bit when getting himself fully upright. Aziraphale thinks he's going to leave, but then Crowley holds out his hand.</p>
<p>"If you don't mind going out in the snow, we could go back to my—the Mayfair flat," Crowley says. He shoves his other hand in his pocket. "Have a nice Yule breakfast, maybe. I've got… something we can whip up. Probably."</p>
<p>Aziraphale, touched by the gesture, accepts Crowley's hand and stands up. "That sounds wonderful," he says with a smile. "I'm sure we can figure it out."</p>
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